My Scary Photoshoot

Last week, I got all dolled up for a personal branding photoshoot. You wouldn’t believe the stress and anxiety that took over my brain in preparing for it. All of the sudden, I lost confidence in knowing what outfit would look good on me and how to do my hair and makeup. I scrutinized every pimple and bump and line on my face. I read recommendations by different photographers to get hair and makeup done professionally, and I started doubting myself about whether I could look remotely presentable if I didn’t do that even when I personally preferred a more natural look.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m not used to being out in society as much anymore. Ever since I graduated from grad school, left the workplace, and have been at home most days by myself even before the pandemic, I find going out, new situations, and meeting new people extremely stimulating.

During the photoshoot, the photographer was great at giving me detailed prompts about tilting my head a certain direction or adjusting how far my hands were crossed over each other. Several times throughout, she reminded me to sit up tall with my shoulders down. I felt incredibly awkward and stiff throughout the session, and at one point, she even told me to relax my fingers because I was holding them in rigid suspension.

It was only a 15-minute mini shoot, but to me, the pressure was like I had to study for about ten final exams that I had to take all in one day and all of which would determine my ability to graduate and succeed in life. No biggie. I returned home relieved it was over, but my nervous system was so revved up, I couldn’t concentrate on any meaningful task or rest.

Hearing What My Body is Saying

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the tension I hold in my body, trying to tune in more frequently to see what my body might be communicating to me, as well as consciously relaxing tense muscles when I became aware of them. I try to check in on my breathing and restore a good rhythm when needed.

After the photoshoot, I asked myself why I had felt so tense and nervous ahead of and during it, wishing I could’ve entered into it relaxed and even inspired. Why couldn’t I think of it as fun? I had completely forgotten to attend to my muscles and breathing. I wondered why it was that when I felt on the spot, my instinct was to slouch. You’d think I would’ve wanted to have presented myself as confidently as possible when attention was on me like that.

After we took a few photos of just me, the photographer invited me to pick up my props, and it’s hilarious how I immediately felt better. I suddenly understood why children have security blankets as I cradled the jar of paintbrushes in my hands, held it in front of my body and even my face, as well as leaned on a large canvas. Having anything to veer attention away from just me was a relief. Hugging an object close to my body comforted me. Reflecting on this shift, I realized:

It’s so much more comfortable and safer to hide.

If I hide, there are no complicated and confusing emotions I have to feel, no external messages to decipher and resolve, and as a result, my internal world stays much quieter. For example, I can see how stepping into this photoshoot stirred up some uncomfortable, old narratives. Taking steps to actually schedule (and pay!) for a photoshoot of just myself felt so far out of the norm for me and even pretty brazen. In my childhood and adolescence, I was told overtly and covertly I should be humble, meek, selfless, behind-the-scenes.

Perfect.

And how that perfection had a specific appearance: small.

Therefore, I should remain unseen. But if I am in a position to be visible, I must present in a very specific way because of expectations and to avoid criticism.

The photographer told me that I was the model that day and so to move and shift as I desired, but I couldn’t get into it (or at least not within 15 minutes). Something inside of me was telling me not to be a diva—that I shouldn’t enjoy this; I shouldn’t feel comfortable with this. Not only that, I had to stay hyper-vigilant because people’s eyes were going to be on me (via these photos). So I slouched; I caved in on myself.

Changing the Narrative

All of this makes me think of my recent struggle with this idea of marketing and growing a social media platform in an effort to get my art out there. I currently detest documenting my life and my work constantly. It feels disruptive when I just want to focus on the painting itself. Yet I do want to connect with people and find my tribe, so it seems essential that I somehow incorporate this into my life.

Add to that that I feel like a narcissist taking photos and videos of myself and my work. It’s okay if other people do it (in fact, I’ll cheer you on), but if I do it, I’m an attention-seeking, entitled exhibitionist. Even as I purchase a mic to improve audio for videos, I ask myself, “Who am I becoming? What world am I living in? Am I trying to be some YouTube influencer? [And even if I was, is that so bad?].”

Perhaps these sentiments are largely due to the fact that I’m a millennial (a.k.a. entering middle-age) as opposed to a younger generation that’s used to having photos and videos of themselves constantly being taken. But how much of this struggle is also due to the fact that sometimes, I’d really just rather hide because it’s easier or that I think I shouldn’t be seen and I should stay small?

I don’t have the answers yet, except that I do believe it’s okay to be seen and noticed, and I definitely don’t believe in the drive to be perfect according to other people’s standards (whether real or just perceived) anymore. I think my body and thereby my brain is learning that little by little despite my photoshoot saga.

While my nervous system is telling me this will only invite inevitable failure and ridicule (i.e I'm about to be eaten by a sabertooth tiger if I proceed), in an effort to continue to better align my system with my beliefs, I thought I’d write this up, and just put it out there without worrying too much about whether I’m doing it “right” or not. This is my act of resistance against so-called perfectionism—a transformative action to teach myself how to accept the discomfort of being visible even when I don’t know what I’m doing or have it all figured out.

People, including myself, say awareness and sharing matters, so let me try to put my money where my mouth is. Maybe it’s just enough to say it out loud for myself, but I wouldn’t mind finding other people who can relate to this and would love to hear from you if you do. I welcome your thoughts and even any wisdom you’ve learned along the way!

Sending warmth, light, and peace to you wherever you are.